



As we begin to fade, seeming to become invisible to those around us, our emotions mounting in a…
You find yourself in the lower level of an old ship. A calendar on the wall says 1682….

In Chapter 3 – Walking Away in my memoir Cowboys Are Not Supposed to Cry, I talked about…
In myself, I have no right to ask As I tentatively crawl to Your throne In myself, I…
Photograph taken as night falls over our backyard in the Pacific Northwest and edited using PicMonkey, an…